Finally, I'm Home
by positivevibesandnaps
Summary: After so much tragedy how do you find a way to survive, to heal, to live? In a world filled with such deceit, darkness, and danger how do you find the light? Follow Sansa Stark as she finds the answers to these questions, of course with the help of Jon Snow. Sansa x Jon Jonsa
1. Chapter 1

Snow.

When she was younger how she use to hate the freezing white flakes. Blanketing the landscape of the North in a permanent state of frosty loneliness. Life in the North was difficult, dangerous, and at times desolate. The weak perished. As illustrated by history's lessons of Southern army's who believed their numbers meant anything in these frigid lands.

No, you needed ice in your veins to survive here.

And survive her family had. For centuries they ruled over the hardy folk and nearly mythical land compared to their Southern counterparts. They stood as a beacon of courage, honor, and bravery in a realm where lies, deceit, and treachery seemed to permeate from every corner. Eventually the sickness of the South found its way into the pristine white North. Tearing her family apart.

The Game of Thrones had taken everything from her.

Her Father, the rightful king. Kind, brave, and fair. Because of her naivety he lost his head to the bastard and vindictive monster that was the tyrant Joffery.

Her Mother, the loving Queen. Loving, understanding, and warm. Betrayed by their former ally.

Her Brothers, all so young. Lively, courageous, and so much like their father. Cut down or lost to the Seven Kingdoms.

Her Sister, her best friend. Sarcastic, sassy, fierce. Possibly dead, or even worse.

As Sansa rode on horseback beside Brienne of Tarth towards the famed Castle Black her mind ran wild reminiscing on her family. The empty forest, snow banks, and chill in the air brought forth images of her family, and her former life in the North. How foolish she had been. How naive to leave the safety of the North. To leave her loving and whole family. The daydreams she had of valiant knights, lavish feasts in honor of just wars, of castles and adventures. When in reality the South was nothing more than a festering cauldron of stagnation. The air in Kingslanding full of the stench of corruption and servitude. The moment she had arrived Sansa had been nearly choked by the pungent scent of decay.

Being back in the North she could finally breathe. With a deep intake of the cold Northern Air her head was finally clear.

This is where she belonged.

Back in the wild, harsh, but true land.

Sansa was broken from her thought by the uncertain voice of Brienne.

"M'lady, if I might protest once more. How can we trust that your brother is even at Castle Black?"

Sansa barely turned her head in response, her tone resolute, "Jon. His name is Jon. And, Brienne I just know… I cannot explain it, but I know that Jon is at Castle Black. He has to be."

Her sky blue eyes locked on the path that would lead them to Castle Black.

To Jon.

When she received word that Jon was at Castle Black and alive her heart fluttered in hope. A feeling she had not given herself the luxury of entertaining. What she endured at the hands of those monsters. Worst of all that bastard Ramsay… No.. She wouldn't allow him any room in her mind.

With every second she drew closer to Jon, and to safety.

As a young girl she always watched Jon Snow from a distance. She saw how her Mother would stare at the curly haired boy with such disdain. Never pressing the issue, Sansa had kept her distance following in her Mother's footsteps. But, she never truly hated Jon. In all actuality she always watched him with curiosity, and eventually envy and respect. He fought for everything that he had. When Rob trained, Jon trained harder. Every sword thrust, every battle tactic, and every lesson he pushed harder than her late brother. Whether it was to upstage him or to prove his worth it showed as they grew up. Jon became a man to rival her father. The day he had departed for Castle Black, forsaking any chance of an ordinary life; any chance of a wife, children, a sense of normalcy Sansa's heart ached. How she wished she would have reached out. Had let him know how proud she was of his decision to serve on the wall.

More than anything Sansa wishes she could have had more time to get to know him.

Smiled with him.

Laughed with him.

Grieved with him.

They both had lost so much. Endured so much at the hands of this cruel world.

Her delicately gloved hands curled around the reigns of her horse tighter. She would see him again, they would be together again, and nothing would tear them apart.

When the lone wolf dies, the pack survives.

Trotting through the gates of Castle Black Sansa surveyed the surroundings. The sun began to set nearly an hour before painting the castle courtyard in a subdued icy blue hue. Smoke lingered in the air from the various fire pits burning to bring some sense of warmth to the Wildlings and Brothers of the Nightswatch.

A grizzled Wildling man with fiery red hair and a beard to match eyed her party as they passed by. Sansa felt a sense of unease as his gaze followed Brienne, glued to her sworn protector.

Sansa's eyes darted around searching for any sign of Jon. Her chest grew tighter and her breathing shallower as the doubt in her mind grew with each passing second. He was not here. The rumors were false, Jon really was dead. She had led her only friend and her companion into a trap. They had closed the gate behind them, there was nowhere to run, nowhere to escape to. Her grip tightened even more around the reigns as her knuckles turned white underneath the leather gloves that sheathed them from the cold.

Not again, she let herself hope. The small flicker of of light within her began to fade.

Her party stopped in the middle of the courtyard, and dismounted their horses cautiously. Firmly planted on the earth Sansa turned, eyebrows cast downwards in a worried expression.

She raised her gaze to the balcony a few yards ahead of her. Immediately time froze. Sansa ceased to breathe, to think, to feel. Any worry or doubt in her mind was wiped away clean with only one thought. Jon.

There he stood at the top of the balcony. His curly raven hair pulled into a bun, as tendrils fell behind his neck. His full beard framing his face, color mirroring his locks. Soft brown eyes locked on her form. Hands gripping the rail of the balcony as he stared down at her, expression mirroring her own.

Shock.

Joy.

Sadness.

Guilt.

Love.

Sansa willed herself to move. To rush up those steps as fast as her tired legs would carry her. To open her arms and to wrap him in the tightest hug any person has ever received.

He was here.

He was alive.

Jon Snow was alive.

She wasn't alone.

Tears couldn't form in her eyes. The cold, the shock, and every feeling under the sun numbed her in the best of ways.

Snow began to fall harder. The air having grown thick almost as if in anticipation for their reunion. Sansa willed herself to move even just an inch. But, she remained rooted to the spot like the Godswood in Winterfell.

Jon began a slow walk down the stairs. His eyes never breaking from her, watching her like a wolf stalking its prey. Each step down felt like an eternity. Each second that ticked by seemed slower than the last. Once he reached the bottom of the staircase she allowed herself one shaky breath, her mouth parting exhaling the multitude of emotions racking her body at the very moment.

What could she say to him?

What should she say to him?

So much time had passed.

So much had happened.

She had made so many mistakes, she had cost her family their home. Her mind began to spiral with the negative thoughts that bubbled to the surface. Sansa didn't deserve this, she didn't deserve to be reunited with Jon. A man so noble, so kind, so good. She didn't deserve to be here with him. As he grew closer her sky blue eyes began to water. He would reject her, he would see her for who she truly was.

A liar.

A fool.

A traitor.

His soft brown eyes looked onto her with disbelief. His own mouth parted as if trying to come up with words to say. Sansa's heart raced as his steps drew him closer. The anticipation of being this close to Jon after so long. To be so close to her blood, her family, and her home.

Jon came to a halt not five feet in front of her. She quickly gazed into his face. A scar ran counter along his left eye. He had grown stronger since she had last scene time all that time ago. His chest was broad, straining against the armour that he wore. His presence exuded strength, courage, and warmth. His soft brown eyes staring into her own, the same care and compassion he had all those years ago in there youth. He looked so much like their father, all of the Stark features shining through stronger than any of the other children.

Jon Snow was alive.

Her body acted in its own accord, bypassing her frozen brain. She nearly leapt forward as he did the same. Her long arms wrapping around his neck as her hands grabbed fist fulls of his armour, squeezing so tight her fingers turned white. She buried her face into the crook of his neck as her soft body pressed flushed against his solid torso. His muscular arms wrapped tightly around her slender back, his hands digging into her cloak if not tighter than her own grip. He lifted her onto her tiptoes with the strength of his embrace. Sansa's senses were on fire. He smelled of pine, smoke, and a scent that was purely Jon Snow. He radiated heat, warming her chilled bones. She could hear his heavy breathing as he released a deep breath letting her know he held his just as long as she had.

Sansa nuzzled Jon's neck, his beard scratching against her pale cheek. She hugged him as tight as she could, as if it were the last embrace she would ever give. Every emotion she felt, every trial she had endured, every pain she had gone through led her to this moment. And, none of it mattered. All that mattered was the man in her arms. The man who would never hurt her. The only man she would ever trust.

Finally in his arms she was home.


	2. Chapter 2

How long they stood in the falling snow, arms wrapped around the other so tightly any normal person would have fainted from the lack of oxygen. Sansa never wanted to leave Jon's arms. So warm, so familiar, so right. Her pale cheek nuzzled into the crook of his neck, his scratchy beard tickling her soft skin. It brought a shiver down her spine, but her mind chalked it up to the falling temperature. The sun had nearly set on Castle Black.

The days were becoming shorter.

The air grew more frigid as the chill wind from the North seemed to blow stronger.

Winter was almost here.

Jon's arms eased from around her slender body as he whispered into her ear with, his thick Northern accent low and gravely.

"I've missed you Sansa…"

She opened her mouth to say anything, to form any sentence in response. But, words failed her. She was so tired, so relieved, so drained. Sansa just nodded into his neck. Pulling back ever so slightly she gave them enough distance so she could stare into his soft brown eyes. She searched his gaze, trying to remember this moment. The warmth, the happiness, the completeness that she finally felt.

Jon spoke again, low enough that only they could hear, "We should go somewhere private… we have a lot to talk about, aye?"

A slight smile lifted at his chapped lips. Sansa's gaze danced between his eyes and his smile. Her heart beat quickened, her cheeks flushed a little. His presence warmed her to her core. Just a few minutes together and she already felt more at peace than when she had left Winterfell all that time ago.

With a slight smile she nodded in agreement. His arms fell to his side as Sansa unsnaked her own from around his neck, a small but loud part of her screaming in protests. Screaming to hold onto Jon, to keep him within her embrace. To never let go of him lest he disappear like the rest of her family. But, Sansa's will kept a leash on these thoughts. She knew them to be irrational.

Stepping back a few inches Jon motioned for Pyp to join them. Sansa did the same for Brienne and Podrick who stood a few yards away from the Stark siblings. On Jon's side Pyp halted his watchful eyes peering over Sansa and her party. Brienne and Podrick stood beside Sansa, as Brienne's tall form surveyed the men in front of her before turning her head to Lady Sansa silently asking if she was okay. Sansa merely nodded to her protector.

Jon scratched the back of his head before speaking with a hearty laugh.

"Sansa this is Pyp, our lead Ranger and my good friend."

Sansa reached out a hand to meet Pyp's own, as he shook her hand with ernest.

Pyp gave her a cheerful smile, "Lady Stark it is a pleasure to finally meet you. Jon's talked a lot about you. He failed to mention how beaut…"

Jon elbowed Pyp in the side as his buddy retracted his hand giving Jon a sly smile, bringing a glare from the Lord Commander which eventually morphed into a friendly smile. Sansa looked on the two with a pang of envy. Their friendship seemed to be deep, Pyp must have spent a lot of time with Jon to elicit such an honest response of positivity from her brooding half brother.

Jon spoke with a chuckle, "Don't mind him, he's spent so much time over the Wall he doesn't remember how to interact with women."

Sansa shook her head and finally spoke, "It's fine Jon."

He smirked, it was the first time she had used his name. Sansa seemed to realize this as her smile faltered. Jon noted this his brow furrowing, he seemed about to step forward but Brienne spoke up with a regal tone.

"M'Lord if I may.."

Jon turned his attention to Brienne, "Jon. You can call me Jon, I'm definitely not a Lord. No Lords out here, just Brother's of the Knight's Watch, Freefolk, and a Giant or two."

Brienne froze, "Giants?!"

Jon barely shrugged, "A few."

Before Brienne could inquire more Sansa cut in, "As much as I'd like to hear about Giants Jon and I have matters to discuss."

The groups heads turned back to Sansa who stood with an expression of seriousness that brought them back to center.

Jon nodded his head, "Sansa's right, we can discuss all of that in the morning. It's late and you all must have traveled far by the looks of ya."

Jon's gaze fell onto Sansa as a slight flush grew on her pale cheeks. She must look a mess. She hadn't washed her hair for days, knots marring her auburn red locks. Her face dirty and scarred with the small cuts that marked her forehead and cheeks from the brush they had pushed through to get here. The last worry she had was her appearance, but being back in civilization she felt self conscious around these new people. Her thoughts were cut off when she felt a strong hand reach for her own. Looking down at the battle worn gloves her head tilted up to meet Jon's gaze. He gave her a soft smile which brought a flutter to her stomach.

Looking towards Pyp he spoke with a loud voice, "Pyp why don't you show our guests to their quarters for the evening."

Turning to Brienne he gave her a cordial nod, "You'll be safe here I promise, supper will be served in an hour in the Hall. Pyp will show you around and my Brother's will get you whatever you need."

Brienne nodded thankfully to the Lord Commander, "Thank you M'L… Jon. Lady Sansa will you be needing anything from us?"

Sansa shook her head in an appreciative manner, "No, Podrick and yourself have done more than enough. I will see you in the morning."

Brienne nodded her head curtly and motioned for Podrick to follow her as she was escorted by Pyp. Pyp shot Jon a wink as he walked away eliciting another scowl from the raven haired man.

Sansa could do nothing but laugh inwardly at the little moment between the pair. Seeing someone to challenge Jon was a sight. When they were younger only Rob could get a rise out of the man before her. She turned her attention to Jon as her features softened.

With a shaky breath she spoke, "So, I guess we should find somewhere private to talk?"

He nodded, "Aye, we can use my chambers."

Sansa raised an auburn eyebrow, "You have your own chambers?"

He chuckled and puffed out his chest in mock bravado, "Sansa I'm the Lord Commander of the Knights Watch, of course I have my own Chambers."

She merely looked on with a deadpan expression, "Do they know that you insisted on sharing a room with Rob until you were nine because you were afraid of the shadows in your own room?"

Jon frowned at her, "No one needs to know that!"

Sansa released a small giggle as she mocked him, "Oh so no one has heard any stories of the great Lord Commander in his youth I see?"

Jon merely gripped her hand and led her towards the stares he had descended earlier. A small smile still painted on Sansa's rosy lips.

With a gruff although light tone Jon chided her, "No one will ever hear those stories, lest they wonder how such a 'Lady' wet her bed until what most would consider an old age."

Sansa huffed in mock shock, "You wouldn't."

He turned his head to look beside her with a spark in his eye, "Try me M'lady."

She smacked his warm lightly as he led them to his chambers. A bigger smile playing at her lips as she glared at him. For a moment she would allow herself this. The light hearted jesting between her and Jon.


	3. Chapter 3

Sansa basked in the warmth of the fire that flickered in the grand fireplace before her. The tendrils of flame dancing above the thick logs, as the orange light filled the room with a peaceful calm. Her breathing steady as her frozen hands thawed against the wooden bowl in front of her. Raising the bowl to her chapped lips she savored the broth that flowed down her throat, burning its way to her core. She had little food or water since she had escaped Winterfell. Her stomach had been in knots the entire time, fear of capture and worse suppressing the hunger she now felt return ten fold. Her eyes shut she failed to notice the gaze of the raven haired man staring intently, sat a few feet to her left. He eyed her carefully, taking in her regal features.

Even with dirt and cuts marring her porcelain skin. Fiery auburn hair a tad knotted and tousled from her journey through the forest. Lips chapped from the frigid temperature of the North. Jon couldn't pull his gaze away from the woman before him.

Content for the moment with the soup, she slowly placed the bowl back into her lap. Opening her eyes she looked to the left, her sky blue eyes meeting a soft brown. Jon sat elbows on his knees, leaning forward studying her. She felt her stomach twist in anticipation. Who would speak first? There was so much to say. There was so much to share. There was so little time.

Warily searching his gaze she spoke in a subdued tone, "This is good soup."

She chose those words.

That is the first thing she was going to say to possibly the last living family member she had in this cruel world. Inwardly she groaned, what had she been thinking?

Her mouth moved of its own volition, "Do you remember those kidney pies Na'an use to make?"

Jon's lips crooked up into a slight smile, "With the peas and onions?"

She eyed him briefly her own lips forming a true smile. Her stomach relaxed, Jon's words easing the awkwardness that had filled the air. She looked back in the fire, the reflection of the flames dancing in her blue eyes.

Jon spoke with a newly formed frown, "We never should have left Winterfell."

She continued to look on. How right he was. They had all been fools to leave their ancestral home. A place of safety, of family, and of love.

The North was harsh.

The North was unforgiving.

The North was true.

You could not lie in the North.

You could not bend the truth.

The North remembers, the North always remembers.

Her fingers tightened around the wooden cup in her lap, and in a somber tone she replied, "Don't you wish we could go back to the day we left?"

With a sharp intake of breath looking off into the distance she continued, "I want to scream at myself, 'Don't go you idiot…'"

Jon's own voice had fallen, "How could we have known?"

How could they have know? Their entire lives they had been raised of the valiant tales of knights, kings and queens, and of chivalry and kingdoms far beyond their wildest dreams. They had been taught that kindness, duty, and honor were the most important qualities in this world. That if they lived these ideals they would make this world a better place. How wrong their teachings had been.

This world thrived on taking from the good, and punishing the just. Power is all that mattered, and if you did not have power you would be used and left to the wayside. Sansa had learned this lesson the hard way. Too many times for anyone person, inwardly she knew this to be true.

Looking to her left she allowed herself a few seconds to take in his rugged form. The dim glow from the fire painted Jon's face with a comforting familiarity. His curly raven hair appearing as soft as a direwolfs fur. His beard brought a wildness to her half brother she never knew. But, his soft brown eyes. Full of so many emotions, so much responsibility, made him appear much older than his true age.

She didn't know why she said it, but once again her mouth moved before her mind could stop it, "I spent a lot time thinking about what an ass I was to you."

He broke her gaze and peered down to the floor. She inwardly groaned again feeling as if she had ruined the mood.

With a sight she continued, "I wish I could change everything."

He looked up, "We were children."

Sansa peered at his with a knowing look, "I was awful just admit it?"

This brought a laugh to the man beside her. And, Sansa's heart fluttered at the sound. It felt like music to her ear, and she wanted to hear it again.

In a light jesting tone he replied, "You were occasionally awful."

She mock huffed in response, bringing another smile to Jon's face.

His gravely voice replied, "I'm sure I can't of been grateful, always sulking in the corner while the rest of ye played." He ended with a low chuckle.

Tilting her head in jest she spoke, "Can you forgive me?"

He shook his head, "There's nothing to forgive."

She raised her eyebrows staring straight at him, "Forgive me!"

He laughed a bit before replying, "Alright, alright I forgive ye."

His soft brown eyes shown with compassion and warmth. Even at her childish attempt to joke with him, Jon still proved to be a kind and thoughtful person. Sansa closed her eyes as a laugh escaped her pink lips. Looking down at the bowl in her hand she allowed herself a few seconds to feel this moment. To feel the safety and security of just being with Jon. Not constantly on the run, not constantly looking over her shoulder. Just sitting here sparring back and forth with her brother over jokes. She felt a semblance of normalcy, something she believed she would never feel again. Finally, she opened her eyes and met Jon's feeling a spark of confidence she stretched out her hand towards the cup he was holding. He looked down at it and back to her before understanding clearly.

He sat up a bit handing it to her, eyeing her with curiosity. She brought the mug to her lips, and upon tilting it back her taste buds were met with a frothy and bitter liquid. As it passed through her lips she gulped and immediately coughed. She had never tasted something so foul, save Arya's potpie when they were younger. Coughing she tried her best to cover her mouth and keep the liquid down, doing all she could to appear ladylike. But, that failed as quickly as it had began.

Her failure to down the alcoholic drink brought more music to her ears, as Jon erupted in a louder laugh that carried from his broad chest. Eyebrows cast in a ground sansa quickly passed the horrid drink back to Jon who took it willingly.

"Ye think after thousands of years the Knightswatch would've figured out how to make a good ale." He stared blankly into the fire.

Her features faltered feeling the mood between them change. A hesitant fear grew in her belly. One of the darker thoughts that had played on the fringes of her tired mind grew to the surface.

Without thinking she spoke in a low tone, "Where will you go?"

The meaning behind those four words hanging in the air. Would she be allowed to go with Jon? It had crossed her mind a plethora of times that Jon might have different plans than she. His desires might be completely different than hers, goals outside of what she desired most. She wanted her home, she wanted Winterfell. Sansa knew in her bones that she would be safe nowhere else. There were enemies everywhere, and Starks belonged in Winterfell as much as snow belonged in the North. The irony of her thought was not lost on her. She schooled Jon's features following her words. He sat pensive, giving away little in the way of what thoughts lie behind those soft brown eyes of his.

He locked eyes with her, his expression changing to a curious glance.

With a loving tone, and eyes that shone _how could you even think I'd leave you alone?_ Jon replied.

"Where will **we** go?"

Sansa's breathe hitched at the implication of his words. He sounded absolute in his meaning.

 **We**

They were together in this. They were all that was left of House Stark, at least the only pair that had found each other. In a world of Lions, Dragons, and Krakens the two lone wolves had found each other despite it all. And, Jon's eyes burned with fire that brought Sansa's world to a halt. It wasn't even an option that he could go anywhere without her. He would be by her side from now on.

He spoke in a matter of fact tone, "If I don't watch over ye fathers ghost will come back and murder me."

He held her gaze for a few seconds as she rephrased her question.

And, with a joyful albeit quiet tone she replied, "Where will we go?"

His expression turned darker as he continued, "Can't stay here. Not after what happened."

She studied his features carefully. Something terrible must have happened here. Jon looked on at the fire with an anger and sadness she could not place. Seeing him like this brought a pang of sadness to Sansa's heart. She spoke up with the first idea that came to mind.

"There's only one place we can go."

The word she both wished for and dreaded paused a her lips.

"Home."

He shot her a confused look, "What? Should we tell the Boltons to pack up and leave?" He ended with a morbid smile.

With steely blues eyes she replied, "We'll take it back from them."

Her words made Jon sit back, his features curious.

"I don't have an army." It was a fact, not a question.

Her voice grew distant, "How many Wildlings did you save?"

Jon broke her gaze, "They didn't come here to serve me."

Her frustration began to grow, "They owe you their lives."

She rose to her feet, "Think they'll be safe here if Roose Bolton remains Warden of the North?"

"Sansa," Jon huffed out.

She continued, "Winterfell is our home… It's ours. And, Arya's, and Bran's, and Rickon wherever they are it belongs to our family we have to fight for it!"

Her chest heaved as her blood boiled over. How could he not agree with her? They had taken their home. Their family. Their lives. They took everything from the both of them, and they sat in their ancestral home defacing the very memory of their loved ones. How could Jon just… Just sit?

Did he not feel the same anger… The same hate that welled inside her chest?

Her eyes softened as his body tensed. She could feel the atmosphere in the room change, as if she had awoken something primal within him.

His voice rising with a dangerous edge he replied, "I'm tried of fighting."

In a flash he stood and turned looking as wild as a direwolf eyeing its prey. His soft brown eyes now black like the nights sky, peering into her very soul. His eyebrows furrowed, his lips pursed tightly together. His entire demeanor screamed the visage of a predator ready to pounce.

"It's all I've done since I left home."

He paused taking a deep breath, and steadying himself, "I've killed brothers of the knights watch, I've killed wildlings, I've killed men that I admire."

Sansa looked on at Jon guilt rising from her stomach. How could she have been so careless? So caught up in her own emotions she had failed to acknowledge his own. What he had endured since leaving for the wall.

He continued with a pained voice, "I hanged a boy younger than Bran!"

He paused again his chest falling heavily. His shoulders slumped at the confession. His once predatory demeanor turned to one of exhaustion. The weight that sat on his shoulders coming to light right before her. Her heart breaking, calling out for her to wrap her arms around the man before her. A good man who had to make terrible choices. A man who endured fight after fight, battle after battle, war after war.

"I fought…"

She could see something break in his brown eyes.

"And, I lost."

His last words brought her world to a stop. Here he stood before her.

Honest.

Tired.

Jon.

The fire within her burned. How dare anyone harm him. He was to good for this world, the weight of all those deaths carrying on his conscious. Sansa had been shown men who cared so little for the life of others, carelessly sacrificing them in the name of power. But, here before her stood one who did not seek power. Who only tried to do what was right. A man scarred, beaten, and marred for the goodness of his heart.

What could she say?

What could she do for him?

Feeling her resolve strengthen she set her jaw and looked Jon in the eye. Her sky blue eyes determined. They would get their home back. They would get their lives back. She would protect him.

Taking a step forward she spoke with the strongest voice she could at the moment.

"If we don't take back the North we'll never be safe."

Sansa took a deep breath, pleading for him to join her, "I want you to help me"

Sky blue held soft brown as neither faltered as they stared directly at the other.

Sansa spoke softly, "But, I'll do it myself if I have to."


	4. Chapter 4

Exhausted.

Completely.

Utterly.

Exhausted.

All of the energy she had mustered in her heated exchange with the man before her drained away. The muscles in her leg began to quiver under the weight of the strain she had put them through on the long journey here. Her stomach in knots over the stress, frustration, and anger she felt at the world. Her mind numbing again, as dark thoughts took a hold of her conscious once more.

She was so very tired. She couldn't fight with Jon anymore. Not Jon… He was her only link to their family she had left. He was the only good left in this cruel world, the only man she could trust. She couldn't afford to lose him. Not him. His expression mirrored her own. His eyes downcast as his body slumped forward, not able to muster the energy to continue on with their current topic.

Allowing her instincts to take over, Sansa crept forward reaching out hesitantly with her smaller hand. Closing the distance between them she took Jon's right hand in her own. Encircling it with her delicate fingers, as she willed him to meet her gaze. His eyes softened again, a beautiful brown with flecks of gold. She searched his gaze, gauging if she should continue. She felt his hand relax within hers, and the breath she had been holding eased through her pursed lips.

In a calm tone she spoke, "Jon… we have time.. We can talk about this more tomorrow? If you are willing?"

He sighed, "Aye… I guess it will do us no good to continue down this path at the moment?"

He gave her a sad, but crooked smile bringing flutters to her stomach. Pushing the feeling aside she spoke.

"You need rest, you look as if you haven't slept in nearly a week."

Jon shrugged, a small chuckle erupting from his throat, "Guess we both could use some rest, aye?"

Her pink lips curled into a smile, "Well at least there's one thing we can agree on."

Nodding with a growing smile he replied, "Aye, that… and, you being an ass in your youth."

Sansa batted at his arm, but spoke with a smile, "You forgave me!"

His chuckle ceased, but with a strange smile he spoke, "Always Sansa."

Her name escaping his lips, the rough Northern accent of his voice playing at her ears brought a small flush to her porcelain cheeks.

He continued, "You can take my chambers, you will be safe there. I'll post a guard, and…"

Her face grew pale at the thought of being left alone.

In a shaky tone she protested, "No! You cannot leave me alone!"

Her hand clenching his harder, her body began to shake.

Jon's expression grew worried, "Sansa I didn't mean to upset you, I just didn't want you to feel uncomfortable. For your own decens…"

She nearly screamed, "Screw decency Jon! I will not be separated from you, not even for a moment!"

Her body shook with fear, old demons clawing their way to the light. Being alone in King's Landing, having to fend off attackers. Being nearly stripped of her clothes in the great hall. Being back in Winterfell with no one to protect her. She couldn't go through it again. She could not be alone.

Jon's arms immediately encircled her slender form, her head finding its way again into the crook of his neck. Her small hands clutching at the material covering his chest, tears began to well in her eyes as she fought off the emotions coming to the surface in her mind's eye. She did her best to control it, to keep some sense of dignity in herself. In her ear Jon spoke gently, whispering pleasantries ' _You're safe...I won't leave you… I'm right here.'_ She stood in his arms for nearly five minutes. His warmth surrounding her, his strong hands rubbing circles into her back, his beard nuzzling against her cheek. Finally she was able to collect herself enough to speak in a shaky voice.

"Stay with me, please?" water blue eyes connected with his own soft brown and he nodded wordlessly. Leading her away from the study a few moments later they found themselves in his chambers.

Though modest on the first glance the Lord Commander's chambers were a glow in the dying light of the grand fireplace. Lage pelts covered the large bed that lay in the middle of the room. Bookshelves adorned with ancient books, parchments, and paper lined the cobblestone walls. In all the chambers felt secure, safe, and looking on at Jon as he led them to the middle of the room… It felt like home.

He stopped turning to her, his hand scratching at his raven colored beard.

"Er… You can take the bed, I'll grab a pelt and take the ground."

Sansa shook her head, "Jon I am your guest, I will take the ground."

His eyebrows furrowed as they locked gazes, "There is no way I am letting my younger sister sleep on the floor! What kind of man am I if I were to allow you to do this?"

She tensed at his accusation, "Allow? You aren't allowing me to do anything! I will take the floor and that is final! Unless…"

His expression grew somewhat tense, "Unless?"

She eyed the bed and then Jon, her blue eyes bouncing between the two until something deep within her bypassed her better judgement.

With a quiet tone she spoke, "Unless… We share the bed?"

Her voice nearly failed her as she watched Jon's demeanor change. In his brown eyes she saw confusion, surprise, and a battle of something she couldn't make out.

In a careful voice he replied, "Sansa I cannot share the bed with you! It wouldn't be decent."

Her auburn eyebrows furrowed, "Decent? Jon it's not as if we are bedding each other."

His mouth opened in shock at her vulgar choice of words, "Sansa!"

She rolled her eyes, "What Jon? We are simply lying next to each other, nothing more."

He still looked at her with an incredulous reservation. She almost smiled at how… Cute he looked, flustered and uncomfortable.

Stepping forward she reached and grasped both of his hands with her own, running her thumbs over his rough knuckles. Coaxing him to relax.

In a sweeter tone she spoke, "Jon… we are both adults, and no one will know… Please, I need this."

Jon's gaze danced between hers and the bed. She watched as the internal battle within his mind raged. She knew she was asking a lot. Jon was the most honorable man that she knew. Even the idea of just lying with her, for sleep nonetheless brought such reservation within him. And, that warmed her body. That Jon thought so highly of her, and did not want to put her in any position that would cost her comfort. He truly did care about her. Finally, he locked his gaze with her's.

In a defeated, albeit lighthearted tone he spoke, "Alright… Take whichever side you want."

Sansa beamed at him, her pearly white teeth shining as she leaned forward embracing his with her slender arms. In his ear, barely above a whisper she spoke, ' _Thank you.'_. He simply chuckled and met her embrace tenderly. Pulling a part, he spoke after a cough.

"So… I'll let you get changed.. I can send for a night gown, err I don't know if we have one.. But, I'm sure we can find on.."

Sansa rolled her eyes, "Can I not just borrow one of your undershirts?"

Jon shrugged, "If you want, don't know how comfortable they'll be?"

Sansa smirked, "Have you ever worn a bodice?"

Jon shook his head, "Well no…"

Sansa squeezed her Jon's arm with a playful look, "I'll be perfectly fine with your shirt."

He nodded before stepping aside towards the fire, kneeling before it as he placed in a log and stoked the embers with the poker. Sansa stood for a moment before getting the cue he was giving her privacy to change. Striding to his cloths drawer she opened it, and was met with a plethora of worn tan undershirts. Her fingers ghosted over the wool laden material, before picking one that looked the most comfortable.

Stepping back she peered over to Jon, who still knelt before the fire broad back turned to her. A worry crept its way into her mind, what if he saw… No! Jon was a good man, he wouldn't peak… He shouldn't see… he can't see…

She turned her back to his, as she reached behind her to undo the ties holding up her torn dress. As it pooled below her long legs, she covered her wrapped breasts, even with the fire the cool air of the room surrounded her bare arms and back. Stifling a groan as the cool air drifted over her tender scars she quickly placed the wool shirt over her head, it fell around her body almost like a dress. Reaching to her knees, it felt slightly coarse, but more comfortable than any nightgown she had worn previous. Looking back to Jon he was still turned from her. A small smile played at her lips as her heart fluttered. True to his word he never turned. She quickly made her way to the large bed, and upon sitting down spoke with a soft tone.

"Jon you can look now."

He stood and turned, but seemed to falter a bit. He eyed her up and down quickly before collecting himself.

His Northern accent in full form, "Err… guess I'll change now too.."

She nodded, lowering her gaze as not to stare. Jon shed his leather armour, discarding his boots. In his own undershirt and long johns he made his way to the bed. Sitting opposite of Sansa Jon's body was tense. She looked up and gave him a small smile. Wordlessly they both laid their heads on the pillows. Laying on their sides so they could see each other Jon pulled the firs over the both of them, covering Sansa in a warm cocoon of safety. Her body finally relaxed.

Blue held brown as both of the Starks breathing eased. Their eyes growing heavy they laid, content in the silence. Before sleep could claim her Sansa reached a hand, searching for his own. Jon met her's halfway, his fingers intertwining with her own. She felt his calloused thumb ghosting over her skin, lulling her into a deep sleep. The last image on Sansa's mind was Jon's lopsided smile.

Warm.

Safe.

Home.

Sansa finally allowed sleep to claim her.


End file.
